


empty crown

by bunshima



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canonical Character Death, Decapitation, M/M, Slow Death, short and not sweet but extremely painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunshima/pseuds/bunshima
Summary: It's dead silent in the Great Hall of Canaan, save for Lucifer's pathetic struggle to stay alive.or: what if Beelzebub didn't do his job properly.
Relationships: Belial/Lucifer (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	empty crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vicereaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicereaper/gifts).



> its been a hot sec since i posted something finished so here yall go, my newest obsession. title derived from empty crown by yas
> 
> rami if ur reading this im dying
> 
> disclaimer: not proofread, does what it says in the manual, PLEASE yell at me

Lucifer's senses return to him for a moment, but all there is to perceive is agonizing pain and the blinding white interior of the Great Hall in Canaan. The pool of his own blood has gone cold by now, sticking to the entire length of his side as it begins to dry. Each breath burns in his lungs and leaves him waiting for his dying breath, but after several minutes of this struggle, Lucifer is questioning if it will even come at all. 

Beelzebub overwhelmed him with ease and left him behind with a gaping hole in his hip - right where his core is. However, he must have misinterpreted Lucilius' studies of his vitals. Lucifer would have been dead on impact…  _ if only his strike was a little more precise. _

The Astral only shattered a fraction of his core and left him to a fate worse than death. 

He literally bled dry a while ago, leaving his core with no room to mend the damage done to its vessel. Sometimes tremors will shake him as it starts another futile attempt to fix the fatal wound, but no such luck. This must be how he atones for the things he should have done, but never did. While he's at it, Lucifer should have done many things differently. However, he's aware that this realization comes too late. 

His vision is blinded by dried tears, blood and the bright sunlight from above. He can't feel most of his body, yet he hears his feet still kicking for several moments at a time in an ultimately futile attempt to run away. The silence is deafening. His hearing as one of his remaining senses is still sharpened by leftover adrenaline to the point where he could pick up the sound of a dropping needle. However, his ears on their own don't help much in this situation.

And thus, Lucifer lies there, quietly accepting his fate to perish alone in a pool of his own dried blood. But just as he actually warms up to the thought, there's something else: the voices of two individuals. 

"You really went at it, huh, Bubs? Had fun?", comes a familiar sneer. 

"Silence. Do what you came here for and that'll be it." This one, however, is no longer as familiar. 

"If you want it done quick then do it yourself."

No verbal response follows, only a droning growl which seems to be met with a growl in return. It lasts for several moments - much like a standoff between two stray dogs - before there's steps echoing, slowly approaching him until there's a shadow towering over him. 

"Keep watch.", the familiar voice speaks, "I need some privacy for this."

"I don't see why I-"

"End of discussion."

A last grunt, followed by a pause. 

"Fine, but make haste; I despise waiting."

Steps echo throughout the hall once more as they carry the other away until they're out of earshot, leaving Lucifer with the all too familiar figure. Lucifer knows who it is, but doesn't want to believe that  _ he _ would be capable of such betrayal. Denying it by this point borders on lunacy, but the primal wishes not to bear grudges so shortly before his passing.  _ What happened, happened. _ Thanks to the shadow towering over him, his eyes are no longer blinded by the unbearably bright light from above, finally given time to recover. 

A pair of leather shoes slowly takes form in his field of vision. He knows it well, seeing how this particular pair was catching dust in his closet for what felt like ages. It only solidifies the painfully obvious circumstances. Lucifer doesn't understand, but by this point he doesn't need to anyway. His physique is numbed from the partial loss of its most vital organ, yet his arm moves quicker than he could have ever foreseen it, taking hold of an ankle with crushing force. 

Cue a startled gasp and clattering followed by a dull thud.  _ Someone _ certainly didn't expect him to be alive still, that's for sure. Lucifer barely has the strength left to tilt his head just a bit, just enough to get a better view at the one before him.

Shaking knees, genuine terror written all over the other's face. Outside of Lucifer's peripheral lies a bone saw, having slipped from  _ his _ grasp. Lucifer hasn't seen Belial in a while, but he hasn't changed much at first glance, aside from the clothes;  _ he still prefers his uniform, though. _

The dying primal attempts to speak, though to no avail. All that leaves him is a dry wheeze, followed by a clotted mess of blood that slips from his lips. His tongue has dried and not even the slowly solidifying blood in his mouth can wet it again. And  _ not to mention that accursed numbness - _ there's no way he would be able to form a coherent sentence, but Lucifer would be damned if he didn't try. Might as well. 

"Be… ia..."

It sounds a little worse than he anticipated, his voice hoarse beyond any recognition from screaming in pain after Beelzebub's ruthless assault, but it'll do. Lucifer wishes dearly to be able to look at Belial, even if he's probably no more than yet another lover scorned to the other primal, but the tension in his neck muscles is steadily declining; he can no longer keep his head up, seeing himself forced to let it drop onto the bloodied paving. 

Lucifer wheezes once more, but this time involuntarily. His chest tightens, his frame seemingly keen on squeezing all air out of his lungs. Everything goes black for what feels like ages before he can inhale again, his entire being shaking with all its might. It came close to a dying breath, but not quite. It dawns on him that he won't survive it a second time.

It's dead silent in the Great Hall of Canaan, save for Lucifer's pathetic struggle to stay alive. 

Belial was never open about his emotions, so he doesn't expect him to react any differently now. However, seeing such raw terror from him,  _ albeit for just a glance, _ is enough for Lucifer to confirm that he felt something,  **_anything_ ** _ at all, _ for him. A little blood wouldn't have terrified him after seeing the things Lucilius had done at the primal development labs. 

Bloodied stone flooring, shaking legs and his own arm dictate the dying primal's field of view. Even movement from Belial's side doesn't faze him. He would be curious about what's happening if his thoughts weren't beginning to slip from his grasp one by one, most of them simply ending halfway to conclusion. A shaky exhale, followed by a stuttering inhale. Breathing is starting to become an arduous task Lucifer sees himself unable to fulfill any longer. Hopefully it won't be long now. He's growing tired of this needless suffering. Perhaps he will hold one grudge after all; Lucifer,  _ kind-hearted as he is, _ doesn't wish death upon Beelzebub,  _ but rather a similar end, slow and derived of his last words. _

Warmth against the back of his hand, something curling around his palm. His fingers twitch in response. He shouldn't be able to feel such, yet he does. Lucifer barely manages to cast a glance at the point of contact and while even moving his eyes is slowly draining his strength,  _ he's glad that he did.  _

Belial is holding his hand - something he didn't want to do of his own volition several millennia before.  _ If Lucifer wasn't dying he would be in euphorics.  _ It feels good, almost too good. Aside from the discordant hum of his lover's core, it shall be the last comforting thing he feels, too.

Again, his vision goes pitch-black. Lucifer struggles to exhale, but this time he doesn't get to inhale again. His jaw falls slack during a particularly agonizing gasp for air, pupils dilating as a last few tears spill from his bloodshot eyes. 

Lucifer's seemingly endless struggle is finally over.  


* * *

  
Dried blood sticks to Belial's hands as he struggles to hold the saw steady. 

Just a bit more.  _ Halfway through the spine. There's not much left after that. _

Unable to look at Lucifer's mangled visage any longer, he turned the corpse onto its stomach, a knee pressed into the small of its back. Certainly not a pretty sight. The positioning should've made it easier to get this over with,  _ but lo and behold, _ it doesn't. If anything, it's just making it worse. Like he's  _ desecrating _ this corpse. 

Sacrilege and foul play are Belial's forte.

But not like this.

Not Lucifer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! (kudos/comments appreciated!)


End file.
